


Resemblance

by laireshi



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 20:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: Later, Adam will only think,Cabeswater had known. Cabeswater had tried to save him.





	Resemblance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Comicsohwhyohwhy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicsohwhyohwhy/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
> 
> I still can't believe what TRC did to you <3

Later, Adam will only think that _Cabeswater had known. Cabeswater had tried to save him. He should’ve trusted it_. But trust’s always been his problem, one way or another.

( _ **He** should’ve known_ , he’ll think, too, _he should’ve noticed immediately, he should never have had to rely on Cabeswater in the first place._ )

Adam trusts Gansey and Adam trusts Noah and Adam trusts Blue. Adam also trusts Ronan and Adam does not trust sentient magical forests that he made a deal with.

He’s less surprised than he should be, he thinks, seeing Ronan waiting for him when his shift ends. 

“Hey, Adam,” Ronan says.

Adam frowns. “You feeling okay, Lynch?”

“Worried about me, Parrish?” Ronan asks back, tilting his head. 

Adam can’t answer.

Dark green vines are growing out of the ground, wrapping around Ronan’s feet and legs, holding him to the spot, and there’s _something_ deep inside of Adam, a _feeling_ , like power and strength and certainty and everything he’s not.

“Stop!” he snaps, aloud and in his mind both, _Stop, why would you attack **Ronan**?_

“The fuck,” Ronan says, “Is that.” He _tries_ to move, but the vines are all over his legs, too tight to even let him fall. His face screws, in pain or something else.

_Stop_ , Adam thinks, _just stop_.

And just like that, Ronan’s freed, and he stumbles, and Adam catches him by his arms and holds him up.

A shiver goes through both of them. If Adam slid his fingers down, just a bit, they’d be holding hands. He’s tempted, for a second, but he’s not sure: is this for Ronan or is it because Blue didn’t want him?

Adam lets him go. The sun has not yet set, but Ronan’s eyes seem incredibly dark, hungry and almost menacing. Maybe Adam’s just seeing _himself_ in them.

“I’m sorry,” Adam says, “I don’t know what happened.”

He steps away from Ronan and only as he does he realises what he’s doing and _why_ , and he wants to shake himself. For all that Ronan communicated with the world with his fists rather than his words, he wouldn’t physically hurt Adam. It’s a weird sort of feeling, this kind of certainty that someone wouldn’t hit him, but it’s true.

So why is he scared?

He gets into the passenger’s seat of Ronan’s sleek BMW without another word, puts his seatbelt on and leans his head back, closing his eyes. Cabeswater is messing with him and he’s constantly sleep deprived. At this point, he’s a danger to others, not the other way around. 

Ronan gets into the car and shuts his door hard enough to make the car vibrate. He starts the engine and his loud music flows from the speakers. Adam winces, angling himself so his good ear is pressed into his arm, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Ronan drives even worse than his usual, cutting turns, barely slowing for traffic lights. Adam knows, by now, that he probably isn’t going to crash and kill them both, but something’s different today.

_Something_ , Adam wants to laugh at himself, _not as if your creepy magic forest didn’t attack him, everyone would be on edge_. 

He wants to say something. He doesn’t.

He sees a white mitsubishi out of the corner of his eye, and Ronan racing Kavinsky is the last thing he needs now, but Ronan doesn’t stop to acknowledge him. Small mercies, even if it is unusual.

Ronan swerves into the parking lot near the church. Adam gets out almost before the car stops, breathes in the stale Henrietta air, unsure why he’s feeling so claustrophobic all of a sudden. He wants to get back to his tiny room and _sleep—_ he can’t sleep, he has an essay to finish—

“Parrish,” Ronan says from very close up. He’s to Adam’s left, so no wonder he didn’t hear him stepping closer. “You gonna attack me again?”

He’s sharp and intense, his muscles coiled, looking like a perfect ancient warrior.

Adam’s really very tired.

“I’m gonna go,” he says. 

He takes a step away, and then Ronan’s fingers wrap around his wrist like a vice, holding him in place.

“Don’t fucking ignore me, Parrish,” Ronan says, low and angry. He pulls Adam in, too strong to oppose him, and he crashes his mouth against Adam’s.

Adam _doesn’t_ want it. Not here, not now, _not like that_. He’s not sure he _could_ have Ronan any other way but angry, but this is wrong. 

There’s a loud sound, but Adam can’t exactly look. He pushes at Ronan’s arms and Ronan doesn’t let go.

Fear blossoms within him, and in the next moment Ronan just falls down.

Did Adam—

No. It takes him a moment too long to see _another Ronan_ standing right there, Gansey at his side, another identical BMW parked behind them.

Is that it, Adam thinks, did he snap, is he going crazy?

The new Ronan avoids his eyes. Gansey squares his shoulders and his face is carefully blank, the way it gets when he needs to smooth things over with strangers.

“It would appear,” he says in his fake composed voice, “Kavinsky dreamt Ronan a doppelgänger.”

It’s crazy. It’s insane. It makes a lot of things make sudden horrible sense. 

“And he, what,” he hears himself say, hiding behind anger, “made me a pawn in your dick contest?”

(Real Ronan wouldn’t have kissed him, just like Blue, and he hates that he thinks that when he didn’t want the kiss in the first place).

Ronan flinches as if hit, like his perfect—except not quite—copy can lie at his feet, but it’s Adam’s words which can hurt him. 

There are plans to be made, now. That’s what Adam’s good at. Calculations. Cold and emotionless. How to deal with Kavinsky, what to do with Ronan’s _fucking dreamt up clone_.

He doesn’t want to do it. His wrist hurts. His lips are burning.

Ronan still hasn’t said a word to him.

He has no patience for him and no patience for Gansey’s smooth round words either. 

It’s not running away, he tells himself as he turns and walks away, momentarily relieved when no one stops him this time just as he’s disappointed that no one cares enough. 

He lets himself into his room. He wastes a minute wishing he could take a scalding shower. He washes his face with cold water and brushes his teeth and then his mouth until it’s raw.

He opens his history book.

There’s a knock on the door. Adam stills. No words come, but after a moment there’s a sound, like someone sitting down on the other side.

He wants to make him go away. He wants time for his feelings, not just for dealing with Ronan’s messes. He wishes Cabeswater would help him now, but why would it? Adam hadn’t trusted it when it mattered.

He closes his book. He sits down.

“Cabeswater knew,” he says, and he waits for questions or accusations, but there’s just silence.

“I’m sorry,” comes finally, and then silence again, and Adam doesn’t break it, and Ronan doesn’t either.


End file.
